Ranma, Child of the Sun
by Sunhawk1
Summary: Okay, this is a crossover between Ranma 1/2 and White Wolf's RPG Exalted. Latest Chapter is actually an explanation for some terms used.
1. Prologue

Ranma, Child of the Sun  
(A Ranma 1/2 and Exalted crossover)  
by Shea McIntee  
  
Disclaimer: Neither Ranma 1/2 nor Exalted belongs to me. Let's face it; if   
I had an idea that successful and that good, I WOULD still be writing this   
stuff, but I wouldn't be worrying about where-am-I-going-to-find-next-  
semester's-tuition-money; I'd be doing this a lot more, and have a really   
nice computer and -   
sorry 'bout that.  
  
Notes: I'd assume that everyone reading this is at least moderately   
familiar with Ranma 1/2. 'Exalted' is the newest RPG from White Wolf, who   
created the "World of Darkness" line of games. This one, however, is set   
far back in the mists of time, and seems, in general, to be a lot less   
gloomy and depressing then most of the rest of their games can be (hey, if   
the world is going to the Wyrm/Technocracy/Gehenna/The Winter...)  
  
Notes the second: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!... I know I should be   
working on the stuff that I already wrote... I really AM sorry, but I just   
get an idea and want to write it down before I forget... Anyways,   
I'll (hopefully) have some more stuff out later today, before I disappear   
for Thanksgiving until Sunday (late). I can't guaranteee any postings   
during that time, but I think I'll have a sizable chunk of material   
(including a full chap 2 of 'An Immortal Love') by the time I get back...  
  
Prologue  
  
Ranma grumbled as he trudged after his father down a steep trail in   
the middle of China.  
  
'Middle of nowhere. What's so important about this Jusenkyo place   
anyway? It's a training ground. So, big deal. We've been to plenty of   
training grounds before, and yet here we are, taking a five-day journey   
through the wilderness trying to find this 'Training Ground.' Baka Oyaji!'  
  
He frowned as he noticed his father's pack was far smaller than his   
own. Lazy bastard.  
  
Ranma was dressed in a light gray (once-white, really...) dogi, much   
like his father's, but without the bandanna Genma used to cover his balding   
head. His hair was lightly bound in a small pigtail to keep it out of his   
way (and to keep Genma from grabbing it during sparring), and he had a dull   
grey (again, once white) belt around his waist to keep his clothes from   
flapping around, also tied up, again for the same reason. Genma would do   
anything to win a fight, no matter how underhanded. Aside from the pack on   
his back, his clothes consisted of the sum of all his worldly possessions.  
  
They'd been walking all day. He was quite used to that... at least   
his pop wasn't having him carry him all the way, or holding a large boulder,   
or being chased by wolves, or...  
  
He stopped thinking about it. He wasn't complaining, mind you, but   
sometimes he suspected that his father never went through what he put his son   
through. However, everytime he brought that up, Genma changed the subject   
and started calling him a weakling.  
  
It was getting dark out, and they needed to stop soon or else they'd   
trip over their feet. He wasn't going to say anything, though. The last time   
he mentioned it, his father immediately decided he needed training in blind   
fighting, and had him carry him all night, SLEEPING at that, in the dark.  
  
Ranma, though, wasn't bitter. Oh, no. Not irritated at all. Nu-uh.  
  
The dim figure ahead of him stopped and turned.  
  
"Boy, there's a small hut up ahead, so we'll be sleeping indoors   
tonight."  
  
"Whaddever you say, pop."  
  
Genma's head swelled up at the cynical tone in his son's voice.  
  
"Insolent boy, you should - "  
  
The sudden crack of thunder and drenching of Genma, who had taken a Pose   
of Righteous Wrath in front of the small hut, but not Ranma, who had ducked   
inside and now stood, smirking at the wet man, interrupted his speech.  
  
Later, as Genma tried to dry himself off in front of a fire that Ranma   
had built, the teen started to explore their temporary shelter. Not very big,   
the hut, constructed of stone (unusual for a hut, which were normally much more   
perishable) consisted of a single room. The floor was made of stone, and the   
ceiling too, with a round hole in the middle which sloped and exited as a kind   
of crooked chimney. On the ceiling and walls were faint murals and scenes, and   
the floor was etched with geometric designs.  
  
He laid out his bedroll and lay down, his pop still trying to dry his   
clothes in front of the fire. He smirked as he closed his eyes and slept.  
  
****  
  
just before the sun crested the horizon, Ranma yawned and woke up. He   
looked over at the bulk sleeping nearby. It was rare to not be woken up by his   
father, and he found he rather enjoyed it. He wandered outside to practice, and   
watched as the the bright disc slowly shoed itself through the trees.  
  
For some reason, today he felt incredibly... alive. It was like he hadn't   
been truly living before; every sound, every sight, and every breath of the breeze   
seemed much more... real to him. It was... it was...  
  
He gave up, and went inside. It was time for breakfast, and if that didn't   
wake his father up, he'd start digging him a grave.  
  
He got out the cooking gear, stoked up the fire, and started to cook rice   
and cabbage. As he waited for the smell to get his lazy pop out of bed, he absent-  
mindedly traced the lines of the pattern in the floor. It was strangely familiar,   
really. He couldn't think where he'd seen it before.  
  
He was so distracted that he didn't notice that the sunlight hadn't gotten in the hut, yet he could see perfectly fine. He didn't notice the glimmering streaks flowing through the floor as he traced the geometric designs lazily. If there was a mirror, he might have noticed his forehead glowing a bright gold reminescent of the sun outside.  
  
As it was, he barely had a time for a startled yelp before a sudden column of light flashed into existance around him and took him away.  
  
  
Genma was woken up by the smell of breakfast.  
  
'Ahhh... such a good son to have food ready for his hard-working father.'  
  
He opened his eyes only to see his son disappear in a beam of sunlight, leaving behind a faded impression of a stylized sun where his forehead was, which then disappeared likewise. He just stared, still in that dreamy half-awake state where you can calmly accept the existance of anything.  
  
Later he'd panic.  
  
****  
  
Author's Notes: Well, I guess I'll stop here; I have to go to a class now... guess where Ranma's going! (the mark on his forehead's a hint...) Comments welcome, and flames help one keep Jack Frost at bay! deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com 


	2. Chapter 1

Ranm, Child of the Sun  
(Ranma 1/2 and Exalted crossover)  
by Shea McIntee  
  
Disclaimer: N3i+h3r Ranma 1/2 n0r 3xa1+3d b3l0ng t0 m3... y3+...  
ph33r my wra+h!  
  
stupid phreak...  
  
Chapter 1  
  
A man stood by a window looking out in a small room, which was  
appointed in a spartan fashion. There was a small desk with a  
rough chair behind it. A small shelf stood to one side, with a  
few books and odds and ends neatly arranged on top of it. On the  
other side, a suit of light chain mail that had obviously seen  
heavy usage hung on a rack. Beside the armor, a sword, large and  
equally worn and utilitarian, stood on a stand.  
  
The man himself matched his weapon; warn and hard, yet still  
razor-sharp in spite of the years. His hair was black, with  
streaks of hard-earned gray cutting through. His face was lean  
with a faint scar beside his left eye, running down his cheek; a  
reminder of an old enemy.  
  
He wore a uniform, more out of habit than necessity, with his  
family crest, a striking falcon in gold on a blue field, over his  
left breast.  
  
He watched as a messenger ran into the small keep, and allowed  
a cold smile to pass across his features. A messenger invariably  
meant action... typically of a particular sort; the Immaculate  
Order didn't concern themselves with most military mattes.  
  
It had been many a year since his last active assignment and  
his promotion.retirement to the post of garrison commander. He  
missed the action, true, but he felt that he could do more good  
as an able commander than a veteran uner incompetent or political  
appointees.  
  
  
The expected knock came at his door. Unmoving from the window,  
he raised his voice.  
  
"Enter."  
  
The door opened and he could hear the light footsteps of the  
young messenger come in.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Sir, I am sent to tell you that the presence of a  
newly-awakened Anathema has been sensed near your post."  
  
The commander paused, then inclined his head in the briefest of  
nods.  
  
"That is understood. The matter will be taken care of."  
  
The messenger hesitated. Once it was obvious that there was  
nothing else, his footsteps quickly died away with the sound of  
the door closing.  
  
The commander stared out the window, already planning the  
sweeps that would be needed to find the target.  
  
****  
  
Ranma staggered upright and looked around. The hut was the  
same; same murals, same ceiling design, same lack of furnishings.  
But where was pop?  
  
As he looked around for any clues, something nagged at him.  
Then he saw it, or rather, didn't see it. There wasn't any trace  
of a fire, and he knew he started one last night. What the hell  
was going on?  
  
The was a rustle at the door, and a harsh voice called out  
something incomprehensible. He couldn't understand Chinese, but  
he knew what it sounded like; this was some other language.  
  
He whirled around to see a man dressed in an armored shirt and  
carrying a spear. He was tall, with dark hair framing a face  
that was almost cruel in expression. His clothes were worn and  
made of leather, cinched with a swordbelt across the waist. The  
man glared at him and shouted something else, gesturing with the  
spear.  
  
"Kyn te an cor, Anathema! Toren yn hap por kun shi necrae!"  
[You're caught, Anathema! Surrender yourself and I'll kill you  
painlessly!"]  
  
Ranma frowned and scratched his head. He ventured a question.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
It was pretty clear that the guy was upset about something.  
Maybe Genma had 'borrowed' some food from him or something, or  
maybe this was his house.  
  
The man shook his head in anger and shouted at him again.  
Ranma gave him an apologetic smile and shrugged his shoulders.  
When the man didn't move, he tried to go past him, and only just  
ducked the stab of the spear. If he hadn't moved, he'd have been  
gutted!  
  
"Hey! What is this about?"  
  
When the man only answered with another thrust, he dodged to  
the left and kicked hard at the spear shaft right above the man's  
fist, throwing it against the far wall.  
  
The man snarled and grabbed a sword from his side and rushed at  
him. Ranma clapped his hands across the sword blade, halting it  
in mid-slash, and, turning, threw him against the wall beside the  
broken spear. The man started to stagger upright, and Ranma  
punched him hard in the side of the head and watched him slump  
down, unconscious.  
  
Ranma knelt down and inspected the soldier, for, judging by the  
cut of his clothes and his armor, that was his profession.  
Definitely out cold. He seached through a pouch at the man's  
belt, coming up with a small piece of some paper-like substance;  
most likely some form of parchment (he'd seen enough of that with  
all the old training scrolls he'd read). There was also a small  
handful of strange-looking coins, and a small knife. Putting the  
knife in his pocket with the coins, he opened the scoll and  
examined it. The writing was, as he half-expected, was  
incomprehensible, although it looked like some sort of short  
letter. Judging by the man's military appearance, most likely  
some sort of orders or dispatch. He stuffed it back in the  
pouch, which he took and strapped to his waist with his belt.  
Maybe he could find someone who could understand it.  
  
As it was, he decided to abandon any speculation about where  
his father was; judging by his experience (garnered from many  
chases by local forces out for Genma's hide), where one soldier  
(or policeman) was, many others wee near by. First priority was  
getting out of the area, and then he could try to figure things  
out.  
  
Checking the fallen man again to make sure he'd be out long  
enough to get away before any help could be summoned, he slipped  
out the door into a twilight darkness.  
  
****  
  
Almost a week later, Ranma trudged through a wooded valley.  
Since that incident a week ago, he'd been having to dodge patrols  
almost constantly, and only his long experience with hiding in  
similar circumstances and Genma's lessons in stealth and thievery  
kept him free. Twice more he'd had to fight, once against a  
single man armed, as the fist one was, with a spear and a sword,  
and the second time against a pair of men, one armed the same and  
the other with some kind of small bow. Both times he'd managed  
to knock the others out, but the one with the bow almost got him,  
leaving a thin red line in his left arm where he'd tried to  
deflect an arrow.  
  
He'd figured that either he and his father had somehow stumbled  
into some sort of tribe or something, or that he was somehow  
somewhere else; the latter seemed most likely, since he couldn't  
recognize any familiar landmarks when he tried to retrace his  
trail, and he hadn't seen any sign of anything familiar; no  
occasional planes, no villages; nothing.  
  
He reached the base of a mountain and started to climb. The  
patrols were getting harder and harder to dodge, and he needed to  
find a place to hole up for a while; a cave would be perfect.  
  
He spotted a samll hole in the mountainside, and scrambling up  
the rocky face to it, he entered and fell asleep against the  
wall, curled up in a blanket taken from one of the soldiers  
earlier.  
  
****  
  
Dagda Kar opened the concealed door that hid his mountain home  
from any who might look for him, and nearly stumbled over a  
blanket-wrapped figure. He caught himself and bent down to  
inspect the boy, for a boy it was. He looked cold despite the  
blanket, but what almost immediately attracted his attention was  
the boy's forehead. On it shone the sigil of the warrior,  
marking him as a Child of the Dawn. He sighed and picked he boy  
up easily. Such was fate; if the Unconquered Sun brought such a  
one to his door, it was only his duty to teach him.  
  
****  
  
Ranma sweated as he spun the staff-and-chain weapon called a  
seven-sectioned staff around to block another strike from his  
opponent. Anticipating the string of thrown stones, he curled  
the weapon around himself, spinning like a top, then lashed out.  
A clatter and a meaty 'thunk' was the satisfactory result, and he  
lowered his weapon and stepped forward.  
  
Suddenly, a thin blade spun at him, and he narrowly missed  
getting shishkabobed by dropping to the floor. He tried to get  
back up quickly, only to halt suddenly and stare cross-eyed at  
the knife pointed at his nose.  
  
"Never assume an enemy has only a single weapon, boy," a gruff  
voice shouted at him from the other end of the dagger. "That's  
a quick way to become a trophy! If you were that insistant on  
being foolish... bah!"  
  
The owner of the voice, a medium-small-sized and stocky man  
with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and well-muscled arms, stepped  
back and sheathed the knife abruptly in a gesture of disgust,  
then relented and held out a hand to Ranma.  
  
Ranma took it, and then suddenly pulled down hard and to the  
left, propelling the man into his foot, and then tossing him over  
his head into the opposite wall.  
  
"And my honored teacher should remember his own lessons; never  
assume an enemy's helpless," he said mockingly.  
  
In response, the dwarfish man scowled at him from the floor,  
and then borke out in a wide grin.  
  
"Aye, lad. It's good to see that you remember the lessons  
pounded into your think skull by this poor sap drafted into  
teaching ye."  
  
Righting himself in a half-flip, Dagda Kor walked over past  
Ranma, who watched him warily, and picked up the sword nd the  
staff from the corner into which it had been flung. He turned  
around and handed the staff back to Ranma.  
  
"Practice is over for now, la; 'tis time to hunt our supper."  
  
"Oh, joy... more rabbits, I suppose?"  
  
The man just laughed.  
  
"Oh, get on wi' ye!"  
  
Ranm gave a small smile as he took the passageway that would  
lead him to the cave and the world outside. He'd been living  
with Dagda Kor for almost ayear and a half, and he'd gotten used  
to the man's gruff manner; he'd as soon insult you and compliment  
you, much as his father once would.  
  
When h had woken up in a strange room witha strange man  
watching him, he'd assumed that he had been captured, and  
promptly tried to escape. That attempt had ended in disaster, as  
the apparently older man had moved far quicker than he'd thought  
possible, and had soundly beaten him back into his bed, this time  
to recover.  
  
That had been his first lesson; never assume an opponent's  
ability by their appearance.  
  
When he'd recovered consciousness, the man had introduced  
himself as Dagda Kor, and explained that he had found Ranma on  
his doorstep, so to speak, and decided to take him in. When  
asked why he'd done so, he had just smirked and held a mirror in  
front of Ranma.  
  
The sight of the strange glowing symbol on his forehead had...  
surprised Ranma, to say the least. The man had explained that it  
was the sign of one who was a reincarnated warrior, called an  
'Exalted.' When he'd asked what exactly that was, the man had  
promptly gone into a 'lecture mode' about long-lost kingdoms,  
treachery, and similar stuff.  
  
Ranma had asked him where in China he was; when the rather  
confused response came (that 'China' wasn't known of, and that he  
was in the Realms), he was, not suprisingly, unbelieving. The  
man had questioned him further, and, when he'd mentioned the  
small hut where he'd spent the night, had grown quite excited.  
That place, he was told was called "The Gate of Persephone," and  
was an ancient artifact that was result of an attempt to travel  
in time, both to the distant past and the distant future.  
Obviously, the man said, he had somehow triggered the gate, and,  
since Ranma knew nothing of either the "Chosen" or the Great  
Gods, he was probably froma future so far distant that all such  
knowledge had been lost to the mists of time.  
  
Since then, Dagda Kor had taken it upon himself to teach Ranma  
what he would need to know to survive in a world different from  
that which he was accustomed to. Lessons in everything from  
languages (Dagda Mor had been able to speak with him through some  
form of magic) to the manipulation of energies beyond the grasp  
of mortals, of which ,he had been told, he was no longer among  
the ranks of, having become a Child of the Dawn.  
  
He walked out into the open air, and scrambled down the steep  
slope of the mountainside in search of food. Hopefully, witha  
little luck, he'd find more than rabbits this time.  
  
****  
  
Dagda Kor stood in front of his forge, inspecting the work from  
yesterday before placing it back into the fire. The boy was  
almost ready to leave, and he inteded to give him a parting girt  
that was worthy of him.  
  
The lad was perhaps his greatest student, and in his centuries  
of life, he'd had quite a few. His grasp of anything relating to  
combat, particularly in the field of unarmed combat, was  
spectacular, and he'd had to work hard to provide him with a  
challenge. He was a bit rough-edged, but possessed a naive  
innocence that was charming. He had originally expected the boy  
Ranma to do quite well, but the outcome was far beyond his  
dreams, although, he thought with a chuckle, he could be  
surprisingly mule-headed when it came to anything outside of his  
physical prowess. Trying to teach him the manners and graces he  
may need was well-nigh impossible, and instilling him with  
ancient and hard-won lore was a lost cause.  
  
However, it was nearing time for the lad to leave and seek his  
own experience, and, most likely, attempt to find a way back to  
his own time and place; the Gate of Persephone did swing both  
ways, after all. He wished him the best of luck.  
  
He brought his hammer down on the glowing-hot metal, folding it  
over many times in preparation before it would be shaped into  
it's final form. Still in the fire, the other pieces of his work  
gleamed, soaking up the heat.  
  
****  
  
Several months later, which passed in a blur, Ranma returned  
with the day's dinner, the inevitable pair of rabbits slung over  
his shoulder, Dagda Kor already had the fire going. They ate  
quickly and in silence, and then sat back to watch the fire burn.  
  
"Lad, what do ye plan on doing wi' yer life?"  
  
"Uhh... I suppose I'l just... uh..."  
  
"Do ye have no goals, no ambitions?"  
  
"Well... not really."  
  
"Do ye wish to go home, perhaps? Or maybe do ye see yerself  
ruling somewhere, or serving under such a ruler? When ye look to  
the future, what do ye see?"  
  
"I guess I'd like to be able to go home, but I don't know how  
I'd do it... I guess I don't have much else planned, really."  
  
The man sighed.  
  
"Lad, lad... ye need to have somethingin mind, or else ye'll  
wander around, doing nothing of worth. Do ye really want a life  
like that?"  
  
"Well, I hadn't really thought about it."  
  
"It's getting time when ye should, me boy. In fact, I'm  
thinking I'll soon be time for you to make your own way in this  
world. Ye'd be still welcome here, but ye need to find yer  
purpose, and ye won't find it here."  
  
"I... understand."  
  
"Nay, lad," and here his voice grew a little less gruff. "It's  
not that I don' want ye hee, but that ye need to learn things  
that I canna teach ye. Yer already me better in weaponless  
combat, and ye fast approaching me wi' sword or stave. Make a  
name for yerself out in th' world. Yer still welcome t' visit,  
mind you, but living here any longer would stunt yer growth."  
  
Ranma sat in silence for a moment, and then nodded. He'd grown  
accustomed to the crotchety old (although he never say that where  
he could hear it) man, and he'd miss him.  
  
Mind swirling with questions and more questions, Ranma fell  
asleep by the fire. The man across from him stayed up half the  
night looking at him and thinking.  
  
Author's Note: Well, I got some inspiration for this one over   
break... let me know what you think! deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com  
Shea McIntee 


	3. Break for Explanations

Okay, I think that, since Exalted is relatively unknown, I might need to explain the setting a bit...  
  
The World  
Exalted is set far in the distant past. To summarize, a great civilization arose, governed by special humans that held a divine spirit; these people were called 'Exalted.' The Exalted could be from any walk of life; heredity (or lack thereof) didn't qualify one. Instead, it seemed almost random; usually at adolescence, an individual would be overtaken by a kind of divine exultation, and become transformed (in my story, look at how Ranma views the world right before he disappears).  
The First Age, as most civilizations, became somewhat decadent (think Roman Empire), and were destroyed by a deliberate internal struggle, the goal of which was to wipe out the most powerful kind of Exalted (and the ones that ran the whole thing): the Solar Exalted.  
Recently, the Scarlet Empress, ruler of the Realm, has disappeared, throwing the known world into chaos. As a result, some Solar Exalted are escaping the concerted Purge of the Immaculate Order.  
  
Solar Exalted - most powerful of what are called the "Celestial" Exalted, typically were the rulers, warriors, priests, and diplomats of the First Age. Castes revolved around the time of day (Dawn (Warrior - Ranma's Caste), Day (Priests), Twilight (Scholars and Craftsmen), Night(Spies, Scouts), Eclipse(Diplomats))  
  
Lunar Exalted - Also a kind of Celestial Exalted. Were adept at shapeshifting and illusions. Relatively rare compared to the Solar; no more than, say, 1000 exist. Castes of Lunar Exalted revolved around the phases of the moon (Full, No, Half, Wax, Wane).  
  
Sidereal Exalted - The Sidereal were the impetus behind the Great Purge; they were the philosophers and foreseers of the First Age. When the decadence became apparent, they all gathered together and cast a great Prophecy with three choices: do nothing, and watch the world turn to darkness; try to avert the fall and perhaps precipitate a greater darkness if they failed; or to kill all of the Solar Exalted. The Sidereal split into two factions ('Bronze' and 'Gold')in the debate, but the majority won, and the Solar were destroyed. You have to understand, however, that they did this reluctantly; not out of a hunger for power. They believed that the world was doomed if they didn't. The castes revolved around the planets.  
  
The Dragon-Blooded - The Terrestrial Exalted; the least powerful of all Exalted, and the shortest-lived (only a few mere centuries...). The Dragon-Blooded are the only kind of Exalted that appear to be hereditary; if your parent or parents were Exalted, you had a chance to be one. They were the force used by the Sidereal to kill the Solar, and later settled down to rule the resulting realm. Castes are of the five elements (Water, Air, Fire, Earth, Wood)  
  
The Immaculate Order - the priesthood developed by the Sidereal Exalted when they went into hiding to seek out and kill any reborn Solar or Lunar Exalted, in order to prevent them from regaining power and starting the cycle of corruption and decadence.  
  
Charms - consider these to be minor magical talents attached to an Ability. For example, the Craftsman Needs No Tools charm allows someone with the Craft skill/ability to work their chosen medium without the needed tools (anvil, whittling knife, ect). Many of these are combat-oriented, such as the Melee Charm "Retrieve the Fallen Weapon," which allows a disarmed person to magically call their weapon back to them. You could see the various martial arts special maneuvers in Ranma 1/2 as similar to Charms in some ways: they take some energy to use, and achieve superhuman effects.  
  
Sorcery - more 'formal' magic... can become quite powerful at the highest levels.  
  
Essence - the 'spirit' of an individual. Needed to work magic and/or charms  
  
This is merely a rather crude and hurried explanation... feel free to ask me any questions if something seems odd... please! I think of this story as one of my best so far in overall quality. If you're curious about the setting, go to the site:  
www.white-wolf.com  
for some more information and for products... heck, I pretty much saw the rule book in the store, read a bit, thought "gee, this would make a great crossover fic" and promptly blew about $30 on it for that express purpose. It's a really good RPG as well, though.  
deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com 


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